In the Eyes of the Sun
by chespin
Summary: Five times Wally hears Artemis's voice, and one time she hears his. — Wally, Artemis, post-endgame.


**disclaimer**: I don't own a thing.  
**notes**: title taken from the song, though...I think that had more to do with me vaguely remembering it than the lyrics. also, I fear the word angst (and its connotation is so warped that I can't take it seriously) so the genre for this fic is general, but I'm told that it's also angst-worthy. probably because my finals are over and they were also angst-worthy.  
**story notes**: this works off the (not original) assumption that Wally's not dead, just transported to 'some other place.' I should probably add that this fic is definitely character study more than it is conclusive, so there isn't a plot as much as there is a general realization of...stuff. yeah.

* * *

1.

The world he's in isn't good for much: the people are nondescript, the heroes nonexistent. It's what his world should have been if it hadn't been overtaken by shadows and magic, and the redhead kid who lives in what should be his house is him—what should be him, had his future gone along its natural path.

Wally watches from a dingy, one room apartment he can only barely afford. His powers are intact, and while he would normally condone stealing, it's the thing keeping a roof over his head. He had scrounged together a tutoring job after two weeks had gone by with only the wind and a leaky faucet as company, and now spends his days lecturing teenagers on the awesomeness of chemistry and physics.

(He wonders what would happen if he recreated the experiment that either blessed or cursed him. Would this world start to turn into his, monsters and all, or would it…implode at the implications? Or, _or_, would someone come along that could bring him back home?)

When he's not tutoring or watching or wondering, he paces the length of his room. The kitchenette in the corner gleams—Artemis had been (_is_) the cook, and had banned Wally from the kitchen more than once—and the battered radiator in the other corner whimpers weakly. It's always cold, always cold outside, too: he thinks it's a side-effect of him being here when he obviously shouldn't be, when there's another him all of five minutes away.

Paradoxes, he knows, aren't allowed to exist for long. He gets the feeling he's just going to get colder and colder, until one day he wakes up to find he can't move at all. Won't be able to change a thing, won't be able to do anything to threaten the fragile stitching of this world.

He's pacing when he hears what should be a whisper, a ghost in his head. He has to strain to catch it, stop all of his motions and focus on the faraway sound of words.

"_I'm _not _crying, okay? Just—just go, Dick, I'm dealing with it, maybe you should too._"

For a long minute, all he can think of is the way his landlord had assured him that the heat in his complex worked perfectly. Guarantee. In fact, the tenants often complained that it got _too_ hot during the winter months.

He doesn't want to think about the voice—because it's not a voice, Wally decides. He starts pacing again, letting his feet pound the thin carpeting. The people downstairs will scowl at him again, but that's fine. The sound is stronger than the not-voice, and that's the point.

He's gone, he tells himself. Wally West is _gone_, and that means that Artemis's voice doesn't have a place here or in his mind.

* * *

2.

One of the girls he tutors has long, unruly blonde hair that she pulls back in an unflattering bun. She frowns at him whenever he pulls his chair up beside her; she's _fine_, she insists, it's just that her mom thinks that a B is unacceptable. She doesn't need his help, and she would appreciate it if he backed up.

She says all of that, and more, every time, but by the end of the first set of problems she smiles and rolls her eyes and tells him that he would make a good professor one day.

Her name is Anna, and despite the hair, she looks nothing like Artemis. Doesn't act much like her either, doesn't talk like her, doesn't have her build. Her mother's name is Paula, her father's Lawrence, and Wally knows she's this world's Artemis even if she isn't his.

"Hey, _hey_," she says, snapping her fingers in front of him. Wally stirs, and furrows his brows at her. "_I_ don't want to be here, but that doesn't mean _you_ can space off. You're being paid, after all."

"…Right." Wally picks up his pen and taps the problem she's been working on for the past ten minutes. "Conversion. Easy enough stuff if you remember to label what's what."

She stares at the page filled with her sprawling scribbles, and lets out a loud huff. A pair of students at the next table glance over, and upon seeing Anna, go back to their work. She's nothing like Artemis, he wants to think, but that presence, that bearing—it's all Artemis, the firecracker girl that drew all eyes to her.

"You're doing it _again_," Anna says. Wally drags his eyes up to her face—she's got these dark, almost brown, green eyes that curl at the edges. Like her, not like her. "I'd ask if you were okay, you know, but since you do this _every time_ I think I should just start asking you if you took your Prozac today."

"_I'm not talking to a counselor—I don't care if it's Dinah, all right? I'm getting better, I don't need everyone to…coddle me. I need space, Zee. That's all._"

His knee jerks into the table before he realizes it, and Anna's notes fly into the air. The pair nearby jumps upright, and Anna lets out a quickly muffled scream.

Wally stares at the upended chemistry textbook. "I—I gotta go," he hears himself saying. His body gets out of the chair, picks up his bag, and drives him to the door. "I'm sorry, Anna, I just…gotta go," he mumbles, and he pushes open the cheery green door that leads into the rec center's hallway. He's halfway down the hall before he hears the halting voice of the senior tutor, but that soon fades away: David's an understanding guy, and he probably figures Wally's just having an extra bad day.

He snorts once he's outside. An extra bad day is a good way to put it. Hearing his girlfriend's voice—his best friend's voice, really—and not being able to do a thing about it definitely contributes to an extra bad day.

"I wish I could help you," Wally whispers to the wind. The trees surrounding the rec center shiver in response, their leaves fluttering to the ground.

_I wish I could help myself._

* * *

3.

He starts to talk to himself.

Mostly, he does it in bed, staring up at the cracks on his ceiling. There's a water stain above the radiator that hadn't been there when he'd arrived, but since the landlord has yet to visit, Wally sees no point in worrying about it. Besides—he likes to imagine that the curling ends of the stain look something like Dick's hair, or maybe the choppy nest that the birds in his backyard had once made. Good memories.

They distract from the fact that the only way he gets to sleep now is after having a long, one-sided conversation with a girl that needs to forget him.

"I miss you," he says. "I love you, I miss you… I miss everyone. My parents. My aunt and uncle. Bart. Dick. I wish there was a way for me to come back to you all."

He shifts, the old mattress groaning beneath him. He's reminded of his first dorm room and his first roommate, the kid who'd snored through the night and woke only if a fire alarm went off in his ear. Wally had thought then that it could never get worse.

"I think…I'm going to be here for a while. Or not that long. I don't know." He sighs, and his breath hazes in front of him. "It's getting colder, you know. You'd hate it—you're all about California summers now and beaches and light… It's not like that here. I mean, it is, it's just…me, I guess. I keep getting colder." Wally laughs softly. "I could use that sweater you tried knitting a few years back. It'd come in handy for once."

When he'd been fifteen and eager to please, Wally hadn't thought much about Artemis beyond the occasional 'harpy took Speedy's place harpy epic stomach _harpy_.' He'd had no real reason to, even if he (and Dick, though Dick denies it to this day) thought her one of the more prettier girls that had deigned to talk to him. At fifteen, Wally had had idle dreams about dates and kisses and futures—but just dreams. He'd never thought that he'd be so hung up on this one girl, more than anyone else.

"I miss you," he says again, quietly. The radiator hums, and he might hear her saying, from somewhere far away: "_I miss you, Wally_."

* * *

4.

David, the guy from the tutoring center, shows up at his door the next day.

"Hi," he says, fiddling with his glasses. He's in his mid-twenties but still has the look of a weedy teenager growing into his long limbs. "I was just…in the neighborhood."

Wally had applied for this specific tutoring company for a reason: they required an aptitude test, and little else. No background checks, no certifications; just a test, a passing grade, and a list of available hours. David and the others know nothing about him, and Wally doesn't care to change that.

"Hi," he repeats, stepping aside to let David in. The apartment is relatively clean; he hasn't had the heart to go out and buy any more clothes than he needs, and all his meager belongings are tucked into their respective homes. "Uh—can I get you anything? I think I only have water and coke, though…"

David hovers in the doorway, leaning in and then leaning out. "I'm fine," he says finally, looking at everything but Wally. "I, uh, wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," Wally says automatically. A habit picked up from Dinah's piercing stares and Kaldur's soft voice saying '_no you are not_.' "I'm really sorry about yesterday—I was having a bad day, and I probably shouldn't have come in at all. It won't happen again, promise."

"No, no, that was okay," David says, waving his hands. "I mean, not _okay_, but understandable. Anna did ask me to tell you that she expects you to, ah, actually help her next time."

He'd tutored Artemis in physics the same way, with more teasing and laughter than guidance, and by the end of their sessions Artemis had always sighed and said, "We're going to have to do this all again, you know."

"Right," Wally says. "Of course."

David nods, and looks Wally dead in the eye. "You're… What I want to say is, I know we're not that close—you just moved here, right? I get that." He shrugs, helplessly, and offers a bleak smile. "I guess I'm trying to say that it's always good to have someone to talk to. It doesn't have to be me, it could be Anna or someone else."

I have someone, Wally almost says. I _always_ have someone.

But he has a decent grasp on his tongue these days, so he puts a meager grin on his face and says, "Yeah, I know. Seriously, thanks. I'll…I'll keep that in mind, though hopefully there won't be a repeat incident."

A second goes by, and then David nods and starts to shuffle his feet. "Well," he says, putting his glasses on, "I should get going. Psych students are coming in today, and they're always the worst."

"Good luck," Wally says, and David smiles his thanks, getting out of the doorway and heading for the stairs. Wally waits until his back is out of view, and then carefully shuts the door. Her voice pipes up then, like it had been waiting:

"_I…I don't know about school, Mom. That was our thing, you know? Our house is there, our _lives_ are there… It's not the same without him. It's never going to be the same._"

Artemis had been pursing a psychology degree. She knows how to deal with grief. She'll remember all of the lectures and the post-it cards stuck to their refrigerator. It'll all work out for her.

Wally leans against the door, counts ten heartbeats that feel like they're getting slower and slower.

"Miss you," he says to the empty room.

This time, there isn't an answer.

* * *

5.

The redhead five minutes away shows up in front of Wally's apartment complex a week later.

He's shorter than Wally, more fifteen than twenty-one, and he's rolling his eyes at a pair of twins shrieking by a lamppost.

"Don't shove each other," he says half-heartedly, fumbling with his keys. "I told Aunt Iris I'd take you two out _and_ bring you back, you know."

One of the twins—a girl, Wally thinks, whose haircut does her no favors—sticks her tongue out at not-Wally. The boy sighs loudly and shrugs, putting away his keys to take out his phone. It looks like an exact replica of the one Wally had had during that age, complete with red case and dangling monkey.

Wally's considering turning around and going back through the door to his building when the boy catches sight of him and perks up, his arm starting to wave wildly in the air.

"Hey," he says in a voice that carries down the street, "you're that dude, right? The one who's tutoring Anna?"

Wally waits until the boy collects the twins and comes within a respectable speaking distance, and then nods slowly. "In chemistry and physics," he says, eyeing the twins. Their hair is as red as his and not-Wally's, and together they look like a mashed up version of his uncle and aunt.

"Yeah, yeah," not-Wally says, grinning. His teeth are more crooked than Wally's, and fewer freckles dot the space around his mouth. "She said you were, like, a genius when you weren't spacing out on her."

"I guess so."

Not-Wally looks at him with something like reverence in his eyes. "I know you're probably gonna think this is really, really weird," he starts, and the twins sigh, "but there's this project I'm working on for the science fair, and I wanted to keep it from the teachers, you know? The thing is, it's kind of complicated and I'm having a hard time working out the kinks, so…"

"You want my help," Wally finishes, scratching the back of his head. He feels the cold settling into his bones, but it's not as—pressing as it had been before. If anything, he feels almost warmer. "I'm, uh, not sure that's a great idea…"

"Please? I'll pay you—you're a tutor, right, so it'll be like you're tutoring me, just…differently." Not-Wally bounces back on his heels, his keys jingling with the movement.

"_They'll like it here_," he hears her saying, voice broken only by the sound of rustling keys. "_Besides, I…I don't think I'm going to need it anymore. He won't, either, so it's okay. It'll be okay._"

"…Okay," Wally says, blinking. Not-Wally's grin goes up a few notches, and Wally winces. "How big is this project of yours, anyway…?"

"I'm Rudy," not-Wally says, reaching over to grab the twins' by their shirt collars. They hiss, but not-Wally ignores them. "And it's not _that_ big, it has to do with the properties of lightning strikes and…"

_Okay_, Wally thinks, letting Rudy talk him into oblivion. _It's going to be okay, babe._

* * *

-5.

She likes the last couple best, so when Dick comes by to talk everything over, Artemis shrugs and says, "Them. The sophomore and her boyfriend."

Dick glances at the pair of names, and the notes Artemis had jotted down by them. "You're sure?" he asks, sitting down in the one chair her childhood bedroom has to offer. "They're…kind of young."

"They remind you of me and Wally, you mean." Artemis manages a smile and waves off Dick's stumbling denials. "It's okay. They'll like it here. Besides," she adds, tracing the contours of the hot pink house key Wally had jokingly made for her years ago, "I…I don't think I'm going to need it anymore. He won't, either, so it's okay. It'll be okay."

Dick still doesn't look appeased—he looks like he wants to take away the deed to her house and call her realtor and demand that he be allowed to take charge of all proceedings—but he just sighs. "Okay," he says, rubbing at his face. His shoulders tilt inwards, and it's the oldest she's ever seen him. "That's that, then."

"That's that," Artemis echoes.

"Step one, accomplished," Dick teases. "What's next? A road trip to heal the soul?"

She rolls her eyes and shoves his shoulder. "Very funny," she says, though it's not a bad idea. "Next is…talking, I think."

He has something to say to that—probably, _don't go around making friends with ghosts, now_—but his phone goes off and he looks at it with a frown. "Stuff," he says, not picking up his head. "Sorry, I gotta go."

"I'll be here," she says as he gets up. "Come by, if you want."

Dick goes to her door and tosses a hasty grin over his shoulder. "'Course," he says, already half gone.

And then he is, and Artemis is left staring at the Alice in Wonderland poster that still hangs over her sister's bed. She'd followed the white rabbit, once, and it had taken her to a magical land filled with family and friends. No ghosts to be had there, just…things that had been waiting a long while for her arrival.

She blinks, her eyes teary, and in the watery haze she thinks she sees the rabbit on the poster move, and its mouth form the words, "_It's going to be okay, babe._"

Blinking doesn't help the onset of tears, but this time around, they're—good tears. The cleansing kind, the kind that leaves you aching afterwards but _clean_, ready to face the dawn.

"It's going to be okay," she says, taking in a deep breath. "It's all going to be okay."


End file.
